


Lost

by oh_johnny



Category: Green Day, The Beatles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Crossing Parallels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4213875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_johnny/pseuds/oh_johnny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billie Joe is hiding out from life and responsibilities in New York City. John shows up to offer comfort. Written in the Crossing Parallels universe created by oneandonlytrey, in which I was given permission to play. This assumes John and Billie have an established, if odd, relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I am in the process of archiving what I consider to be the best of my old fics from lj. This is not new work, although it may be new to you.

Billie Joe sat in the armchair, feet propped against the windowsill, squinting at the streetlights outside through the fug of smoke and the inch of amber liquid left at the bottom of the bottle of Jack Daniels. Whiskey-coloured glasses and a liberal helping of weed, he'd found, made the whole world just that little bit more handleable...able to handle...handleicious...

Fuck. His language centre was just so screwed these days. Along with everything else. Except the interior monologue that just now was playing a loop of Adie's voice as she tried not to let him know she was crying on the other end of the phone line. Who did she think she was kidding? Nine years of marriage meant he didn't need eyes to read her emotions. It was all in her voice, the sorrow and fear and just a touch of anger that he was being a selfish asshole and leaving her to wrangle their kids alone _again_.

He heard a thump from the bathroom and a muffled curse. He frowned, rapidly scrolling through what was left of his memory as he tried to remember who he'd brought home with him tonight. He'd just come to the conclusion that he'd actually decided to sleep alone when the bathroom door opened and he heard a familiar voice, a voice that made him smirk and revise his plans for the occupancy of his bed.

"Fuckin' hell! Where the fuck...Billie? That you, mate? Where the bleeding hell are we?"

Billie smiled and rose, swaying slightly, to greet his guest. "Using the door too mundane for you, John? There's no window in that bathroom, I checked. And you're in the East Village. New York, New York."

"Bathroom windows have got nowt to do with me, mate. That'd be the Mrs. Macca. You'll want to keep that straight - I'm pretty sure Paulie won't do for you what I do," John stopped for a minute and looked Billie over critically, taking in the three-day growth and whiskey-stained jeans. "You look like shit."

"Fuck you very much. Want a drink? A joint? A suck of my dick?"

"All please," John answered, moving closer and putting his arms around Billie, holding him close. "Missed you," he murmured.

Billie sighed and sank into John's arms, feeling an odd sort of stability in this man - odd because John's presence here probably meant Billie had finally let go of reality completely. He didn't care though, and had never stopped to analyze this part of his life too closely, afraid analysis would just make it all go away. "Missed you, too, you asshole," he whispered against John's collarbone, nuzzling against his neck and inhaling the familiar and comforting smell of rum and tobacco.

John bent his head down and kissed Billie Joe, tongue sliding into welcoming warmth. Then he pulled back and looked more closely at the shadows under the green eyes and the unhappiness contained within. He frowned and pulled Billie down onto the couch, settling them so that they could both maintain eye contact and hold onto each other. "So, what's got your knickers in a twist?" he asked.

Billie clung to John, trying to organize his thoughts. "It's all shit," he said finally. "I can't write. I'm hating my band and they're my best fucking friends, so where does that leave me? I'm hurting my wife, my boys are growing up without me and I'm a drunken wreck. Lousy husband. Rotten friend. Shit of a father. I have no idea how but somehow I've just fucked the whole thing up."

John nodded in sympathy, "Yeah. Been there. It feels like the end of the world. Me, it took me two years in L.A. before I realized I had everything I needed here in New York. And that no matter how often or how badly I fucked it up, the people who love me always let me try again. Though it was touch and go for a while there. I really thought a couple of times that Yoko was just going to tell me to hop it forever."

"Yeah," Billie agreed, suddenly finding himself battling tears. Fuck, bad enough his friends and family were all disappointed in him, the last thing he needed was to burst into tears in front of John fucking Lennon. Talk about pathetic. 

He burrowed a little more into John's chest, his hand stroking the body under the New York t-shirt. "Jesus, John, you're really thin. Are you all right?"

"Yeah," John shrugged. "Yoko's got me on some sort of special diet. Getting me in shape to make a record."

"You're...you're going to make a record? You and Yoko?"

"Yeah. Something that's just the two of us. I've been away from it for a while, looking after the baby, but it's time to go back."

Billie was quiet for a while then, shifting his body even tighter against John's. Then he reached up and stroked John's face, saying quietly but with all the intensity he could muster, "You enjoy that, okay? Every minute of it. In fact, have the best fucking time of your life with it. For me. Okay?"

John laughed and kissed the top of Billie's head. "Okay, love. I'll just pretend you're right there rocking with me. Will that suit you?"

"Yes," Billie nodded, then reached up to kiss John. "Yes, that would do very well."

"There you go, then. Something to live for. So now that all's right with the world again, I seem to recall somebody mentioning a blow job?" 

Billie laughed and slid to his knees in front of the couch, closing his eyes so John wouldn't see the hurt in them, sorrow that John would think was for Billie himself but which really was Billie's own unvoiced knowledge that life was too, too short. Knowledge also that tomorrow he'd be calling Adie and making plans to go home. It was time.


End file.
